


Silk Stocking

by firefly124



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 00:57:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Potter’s Christmas parties were always as dull as dirt. Until tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silk Stocking

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a series of drabbles and ficlets for AdventDrabbles 2007 on InsaneJournal to a variety of different prompts.

Severus wondered why he had let himself be pressed into coming. These soirees of Potter’s were tedious, though they did allow for a certain amount of information-gathering, as the brat had collected rather impressive friends in the Ministry over the years. Alas, that was another good reason to attend: to be seen by said Ministry friends as Potter’s honored guest, reminding them why they should not bother him.

And so he was avidly not-listening to a conversation between Shacklebolt and Lincrum about the possibility of adopting a Muggle-style Value Added Tax and nearly missed the utterly gorgeous pair of legs that passed not a yard away from where he sat. Nearly missed but not entirely. The stockings adorning those legs shimmered enticingly, seeming to pick up every flicker of every flame in the room. They were the sort of legs he could spend an eternity learning in detail, both with and without their silky covering.

The legs very obligingly stopped, most likely to chat with someone utterly boring. Languorously, he let his gaze travel upwards, until the stockings hid away under the just-barely-long-enough-to-be-modest dress. Appreciatively following the curves to which the fabric clung so deliciously, he wondered vaguely whom he would find himself looking at. When he reached the amused brown eyes, it took him a moment to recognize her.

Hermione Granger picked up a second glass from the tray at which she had stopped and offered him one of the excessively sweet concoctions Potter insisted upon serving at his Christmas parties, saying, “You look thirsty, Professor.”

“You have no idea,” he agreed, accepting and swallowing the syrupy beverage.

“Oh,” she said, leaning a bit closer, blocking his view of her lovely legs but treating him to an entirely different but equally pleasant vista, “I think I just might.”

Perhaps these parties were not, after all, quite so terribly dull as he’d remembered.


	2. A Bit of Light Reading

Miss … Hermione seemed to think it discreet to suggest he join her in the library, as though anyone would believe she actually wished to show him some obscure tome. He smirked, not caring at all if Potter or any of his Ministry cronies speculated as to what they might actually be up to, even if things did not go as he suspected they might.

She made rather a production of locating a specific book. For some reason, she could not seem to remember whether it was on a high or low bookshelf, or, indeed, on which side of the room. When she finally located the text, roughly in the same area she had first begun looking, she brought it to him, a glint in her eye.

“Would you be so kind, Professor, as to read the paragraph at the top of page two hundred and sixty-five?”

Raising an eyebrow, he opened _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_ and scanned the paragraph in question.

“Aloud, please, sir?”

Intrigued, he complied.

“The Etruscans, then, integrated the two systems of writing into a single, more powerful collection of symbols. The Etruscan Syllabary thus became the foundation for several runic systems throughout the Western wizarding world, and the wizard or witch who desires to learn to utilize any of these systems effectively would do well to begin their studies …” He noticed that she did not appear to be attending the actual words. “… with a cursory review of the care and feeding of Hippogriffs, particularly with regard to proper handling of fecal matter.”

At this last, her eyes narrowed, though one corner of her lips twitched.

“And is there anything else you wish to hear?”

Her lips formed a mischievous smile. “Just you casting a Silencing Spell, as I’ve already locked the door.”

Very intrigued indeed, he drew his wand and pointed it at the door.

“ _Muffliato._ ”


	3. Playing the Game

“ _Muffliato._ ”

A wicked grin stole across her face.

“What are you up to, Miss Granger?” Severus asked warily. Her bizarre perusal of every far corner of the bookshelves could have been a cover to hide any number of activities. She might have become a rather fetching woman, but he was unwilling to be made a fool of over her.

She took a step closer and removed a bit of lint from his sleeve before looking him directly in the eye. “Whatever do you mean?”

That was a temptation not to be resisted, and he quickly pressed his advantage. He knew a moment of sickening triumph when he realized she had, indeed, been seeking out listening devices created by Mr. George Weasley, only to be brought up short by the discovery that she had deactivated the three she’d found.

The grin hadn’t left her face. Of course, she’d known he would use Legilimency. He should have expected no less of her.

“Every year, someone – or two, or three – ducks into this library during one of Harry’s parties,” she said.

“And you know this because …?”

“George and Ron spend the entire next year teasing them. I didn’t much fancy listening to that.” She tilted her head to one side. “Did you?”

“And the book?”

“I thought it might bore them into ignoring us if I’d missed any.” The fingers on his sleeve glided up along his shoulder and rested on his collar. “Besides, you have a lovely voice.”

Still suspicious, he grabbed her wrist and removed her hand from his person.

“What are you playing at?” he demanded.

Raising her eyebrows, she asked in turn, “Aren’t we playing the same game here?”


	4. Seize the Moment

Hermione’s eyes were something less than completely guileless as they darted just over his head.

“I’ve got you where I want you,” she said. A flicker of doubt. “Unless you don’t want to be got.”

An upward glance showed Severus that she’d somehow maneuvered him under a sprig of greenery that he suspected was mistletoe. With a smirk and a tug on the wrist he still held, he pulled her in closer, still watching for any sign she was up to something. He didn’t need Legilimency to read the way her eyes dilated and her lips parted slightly, though it was always best to be sure, especially in such an unlikely situation. And again it was clear she expected as much. Thin walls lay behind her surface thoughts of desire, so thin he could easily tear them if he chose.

“Do you have any idea who you are dealing with?” The intended snarl came out rather gruff.

“I think it’s obvious that I do.” She continued to look him in the eye, and suddenly he was very certain those tissue-thin walls were a test. “How much more proof do you need?”

Releasing her wrist, he took her face between his hands and claimed her lips hungrily. After a second’s startlement, she put her arms about his neck and responded in kind.

Moments later, as they both caught their breath, a knock sounded at the door.

“Oi! Who’s in there?”

Even knowing his spell wouldn’t allow any sound to travel out of the room, he froze until he heard footsteps walking away.

“Perhaps this is not the ideal location,” he said.

She nodded, looking rather less disappointed than he’d like, picked up a beaded bag he hadn’t seen her bring in, and pulled an old, bent quill from it.

He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Have you decided to trust me?”

Supposing he had, he reached out to touch the quill and felt the familiar tug behind his navel as the Portkey activated.


	5. No More Interruptions

When the whirling sensation stopped, Severus quickly took stock of his surroundings. They were in the sitting room of a small flat, simply decorated in favor of leaving room for large shelves filled with books. The sounds of cars outside told him they were in a Muggle neighborhood, though magic thrummed through the simple dwelling.

Hermione set down the bent quill and straightened her dress, which had got rumpled at some point. Her lips were bright and full from kissing, and he thought he might rather like to get back to them soon. Still, she seemed a bit too prepared for all this.

“Exactly how long have you been planning this?” he asked.

“Does it matter?”

He supposed it didn’t. The mere fact that she clearly had planned this … seduction was enough to silence any lingering worries as to whether she was merely intoxicated. Though there was certainly nothing in her demeanor to suggest she had had much to drink at all.

Unfortunately, Portkey travel was hardly conducive to a romantic interlude, at least not when inserted in the middle of things, and it didn’t seem they were going to quite pick up where they had left off before that imbecile had pounded on the door.

“Shall we have a glass of wine, perhaps?”

He nodded wordlessly as she fetched a bottle, poured two glasses, and handed him one. The garnet liquid glinted with the light of her fireplace. Was he supposed to come up with a toast?

She lifted her glass and relieved that worry, saying, “To …”

He started and nearly dropped his glass when he felt something rub up against his shin and twine its way between his legs. When he looked down, a fuzzy orange face regarded him seriously.

“I’m glad you approve,” Hermione said with a giggle. “Now go somewhere else for awhile, Crooks!”

He rolled his eyes as the beast sauntered off, hopefully not in the direction of the bedroom.

“Where was I?” she asked.

“I believe you were about to make a toast,” he replied. “I sincerely hope it was going to be ‘to an end of interruptions.’”

The look in her eyes was positively wicked as she clinked her glass against his.


	6. The Stockings Were Set Away from the Fire with Care

The wine glasses had long since been abandoned. In fact, Severus thought he’d heard one topple over a few minutes ago. So long as he didn’t end up kneeling on broken glass, he wasn’t fussed. Right now he was far more interested in the way the silk of Hermione’s dress felt as it slipped over her peaked nipples. Smooth. Luxurious. And very much in the way.

She arched away from the sofa back and reached behind her neck. Whatever she’d done made it much easier to ease the material off her shoulders and, more importantly, her breasts. He explored one of the nipples with his tongue as she tangled her fingers in his hair and made encouraging sounds. The fire popped and crackled as he switched his attentions to her other breast, nibbling and suckling appreciatively.

Suddenly the hands in his hair drew him back up for another searching kiss before they wandered to his shirt, his frock coat having been discarded shortly after the wine. Her hands were warm and soft as they explored the sparse hair of his chest and then wandered further. He moaned into her mouth when she caressed him through his trousers but then pulled away.

“Not yet,” he murmured, clamping down on the instincts that were howling at him. He’d had something else in mind since she’d first walked past him at the party.

Sliding to the floor, he knelt before her and stroked his fingers slowly upward, seeking the top of her stocking, and rolling it slowly down, following his fingers with his lips. Her toenails were painted a vibrant red, he noticed as he uncovered them, and the varnish sparkled in the firelight. By the time he had removed the other stocking, setting it carefully next to the first, well away from the hearth, she was wriggling impatiently.

Guiding her hips to the edge of the sofa and rucking her dress up around her waist, he nibbled and kissed his way back up along the inside of her now bare leg, smirking as she tried to hurry him along. And then he was parting her lips, tasting her sweetness. Her musky scent was more intoxicating than the finest wine, and her excited mews guided him to just where and how she wanted him to swirl his tongue. With one hand, he fumbled his rough woolen trousers open and stroked himself briefly through his pants, desperate for more but not wanting to come just yet.

Her legs tensed, and he suckled her clitoris just that little bit harder, as she cried out and fisted his hair in her hands.

He stumbled a bit getting up, not the graceful move he’d planned, but then claimed her mouth, sharing her sweet taste with her as he shed his trousers and guided her to lie back. Her eyelids fluttered closed as he entered her. Merlin, it was wonderful to be engulfed by her, and he quickly lost any pretense of holding back as he stroked in and out of her body with abandon, thrilling to the touch of her hands on his chest, his face, and finally gripping his arse and urging him on.

He later thought she might have come again. He hoped so, but he’d been a bit too preoccupied to be sure, as a wave of ecstasy exploded through him and into her, leaving him blissfully spent and utterly incapable of rational thought.

She nudged him to one side, and he was surprised to discover there was room for that. Apparently her sofa was deeper than he’d realized. He kissed her lazily, palming a breast and leaning into her hand as she caressed his face.

It occurred to him to wonder what Potter and the others would make of their disappearance. As she sighed a satisfied little sound and curled up closer to him, he decided he didn’t particularly care.

 _Fin._


	7. Not So Sold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set considerably after the previous sections.

Shadows flickered across his face in the candlelight. It was startling how relaxed he looked when he slept. Unable to resist, Hermione brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes, only to find her hand caught and a firm kiss pressed to the palm.

“So soon?” he asked with a sleepy smirk. “Perhaps you should have married a younger wizard.”

“I don’t want a younger wizard,” she replied, leaning in for a kiss and reaching under the covers to confirm her suspicion. At his appreciative moan, she added, “And you’re not as old as you seem to think, Severus.”


End file.
